Old Friend
by spiritofwolf
Summary: Halfa- half ghost, half human. Half dead, half living; a paradox. Our dear halfa has died and lived so many times over, he can probably sit down for a cup of coffee with Death himself. T for story revolving around death, even though the series does too.
1. Prologue

To explain: Well, I wanted to do a series of oneshots on Danny's encounters with Death- try counting how many times he half-died already. And it needed a prologue. And this popped out.

It's rather horrible, actually. I don't like the idea of Ghost Writer being from Shakespeare's era- attire, keyboard and speaking manner aside- but it was needed to highlight the concept. But I need to throw something out here, so I have more reason to actually write. School starting kind of impedes that, but I'll update... eventually.

I honestly don't know if I was trying to go for serious, macabre, or humor when writing this. It ended up being a bit of all.

Disclaimer: If I owned Danny Phantom, the series would be as emo as Those Ninjas. (Not really.)

* * *

Lancer had had it. Given, in Amity Park, nothing is completely free of ghosts, but if he heard another student trying to-

"Dude, it'd be, like, totally cool if I could be like Danny Phantom! Wonder how he got his powers."

"Well, he's a half ghost, right? So maybe if we half-die, we can have cool ghost powers like him!"

"_King Lear_, people!" He slammed a hand down on the table, and barely stopped himself from yelping in pain. It was worth it, though- the entire class had gone silent, staring wide-eyed at their usually non-violent teacher.

"Do you hear what you are saying? 'Oh, let's half-die so we can have ghost powers!' Has the meaning of death been so glamorized to you?" He ran a hand on his face, frustrated. "Dying is permanent. It's not some game where you can just hit the reset button. When you die, you stay dead, and sometimes you don't even become a ghost."

"But Mr Lancer," Baxter raised his hand, indignant. "Ghosts are cool!"

"No, ghosts are not 'cool', Mr Baxter." The bald teacher snapped. "Will someone who is sane please give us the definition of a ghost?"

Manson raised her hand. "Ghosts are believed by some to be the souls of the dead who have unfinished business in the real world. A better definition in Amity Park would be dangerous ectoplasmic creatures with destructive urges, but that's just Amity."

Appreciative smirks appeared on Fenton and Foley's faces, and the African-American sniggered. He trailed off into silence when Lancer glared at him.

"Mr Fenton, your thoughts on the matter?" He rubbed his forehead in exasperation.

Silence reigned. Every eye was fixed on the halfa, who had a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well... I've cheated Death so many times that I'm hardly objective on the matter. But I've managed to make friends with most of the ghosts, when they're not trying to take over the world, kill me, or hang my pelt on their walls-"

Lancer's face was revolted.

"-and... I found out that there's a reason these ghosts have been hanging around since forever. Ghost Writer, for instance; he's always hosting the Christmas truces recently. I asked him about it once, and he told me that after I dragged him from his keyboard, the memories he was trying to avoid of friends and acquaintances long dead and gone came back. It hurt so much because he wanted to pass on, disappear into oblivion after them, but the new connections he made in the Ghost Zone wouldn't let him. He already lost one group of friends, he didn't want to lose another. He's from Shakespeare's era, by the way." He added.

Sanchez spoke up. "So... this dude's been around for a few hundred years-"

"Approximately four hundred years." Lancer corrected absentmindedly.

"-and he hasn't seen his friends since?"

"Not those he had in life, no."

You could hear a pin drop.

Fenton broke the silence once more. "Being dead yourself doesn't matter sometimes. But when you factor in friends, family..." His fists clenched. "Being the only survivor is the worst punishment, sometimes." He ended with a harsh whisper.

Lancer- and the entire class with him- felt as though they were missing something when Manson looked at him worriedly, and Foley slapped him lightly on the back. "Hey, dude, we're still alive. We're still here."

"Tucker brings up a good point." Gray pointed out. "You died, but _you're_ still here. How does that work out?"

The tension broke as Fenton let out a loose laugh. "Oh, yes. The halfa issue. I can tell you, Death is _not _happy to be cheated of my life so many times."

"Death?" Lancer cocked an eyebrow. "Are you personifying the concept of death, Mr Fenton?"

"Huh? Oh, no, Death is... well. Death exists. I've met Death several times before- he's a lousy conversationalist."

"Is he a skeletal being with spiky hair and wings, who only eats apples?" A nerd asked eagerly.

"..." The entire class stared.

"... Never mind." He shrank in his seat.

"Anyway..." Fenton started again. "Me only half dying was a fluke, a one-off thing. Two-off. No, three-off." He paused. "Well, anyway, whatever it is, don't try it at home, kids."

Manson groaned and slapped a hand on her forehead.


	2. The First

Someone explain to me why everything I write sounds like I churned it out while on crack.

Oh, and Cuckoo's Clocky. Nickname belongs to... someone else, can't remember the exact fic, but it came from Jazz at any rate. Whoever wrote it, I credit you, so yeah.

**Disclaimer: I'm sorry, but I think you mistook me for Butch Hartman.**

* * *

When he finally stopped twitching from the electricity that had coursed through his body, he found himself face to hood with what looked remarkably like the Grim Reaper.

Naturally, he screamed.

The head tilted, as though curious. "Halfa." The voice was plaintive, and nothing like the sibilant hiss he had expected.

"...Wha?"

The figure tsked and leaned away from his face, giving him a full view of black cloak, silver scythe and green energy swirling around them both. "You're not very bright, are you? Such a variety of questions you could have asked, and the first one has to be 'Wha?'."

The boy just blinked dumbly.

The Reaper blew out a long sigh, pinching what looked like the bridge of his nose. "Must I do everything for you? You know that electric shock?" A nod.

"Well, it killed you. You're dead. As in, kicked the bucket, pulled the plug, heard the chorus of angels and seen the pearly gates, traveled down the tunnel with the bright light at the end-"

Danny didn't know what disturbed him more; that he was _oh my god freaking dead_ (and evidently not in heaven, seeing how this Reaper seemed to be taking great delight in tormenting him), or that he was hyperventilating, but not drawing in any air, and not feeling any the worse for it.

"Hey, hey, calm down." A hand was placed on his shoulder, but instead of the cold, clammy claws he expected, the touch was warm and comforting- almost an embrace. As he reflected that so far, nothing about death seemed to be going the way he had expected, he unknowingly stopped hyperventilating.

"Are you afraid of Death?"

"No shit, Sherlock." He retorted, shaken.

"Why?"

The question threw him for a loop. "What why? It's death, you're dead, of course I'd be afraid."

"...Fine, so you aren't ready for that question yet. Why are you afraid when your parents study its effects for a living, then?"

Danny was evidently recovered enough to snort, loudly. "I'm not a little kid listening to Mom's fairytales anymore. What they study don't exist."

"Then why did you fix the Fenton Portal and die?"

"Woah, wait. Since when did we start playing Spanish Inquisition? If anything, I should be the one asking questions here!" Unknown to the newly born (or dead) halfa, his eyes were glowing green in fury.

Of course, it didn't help that the cloaked figure just threw his head back and laughed.

"_What?_" he demanded.

"Well, you can't blame me! It's a cosmic joke- the half-ghost who doesn't believe in ghosts, even though his parents study them and their college mate is of his kin! Well, at least I know I didn't get the wrong kid- you're finally showing that spitfire I saw in Cuckoo's clock. Keep it up, Phantom, it'll serve you well."

"...Phantom?"

He smacked his head, muttering, "Back to square one. Look, why don't you go back to life for awhile, get a little smarter first? Then we talk."

"Now wait, what d'you- guh!" The tingle of electricity had started up again, rising to the pain of the electrocution he had endured earlier, clear and present. The cloaked figure, on the other hand, seemed to fade away, until it was as though Danny was seeing him through a heavy downpour of rain. "You never told me who you are! And what d'you mean half-ghost? I thought I was dead!"

As the torture coursing through his nerves reached a crescendo, he could hear a faint reply. "I'm Death, you slow-witted nimrod! As for the rest... I'll let you figure it out. I'll be seeing you, Phantom!"

It was the last thing Danny heard before he was expelled forcefully from the Portal and into his new half-life.


	3. The Second

Not a horribly fun one to do, but it needed to be done. Others should be better- if I'm not mistaken, TUE!Danny is next. Angst fwee. But it probably won't be out for a long while after, since life and reality interferes.

Oh, a little bit of CLAMP-logic spilled over here, body and soul memories. Nothing much, won't interfere with reading, but it was fun to put in anyway.

Disclaimer: The closest I've ever come to owning a halfa is when I'm half-dead in the morning from waking up too early.

* * *

"No, shut up, don't scream." Danny snapped his mouth shut before he could do exactly that. "You were electrocuted, you died, I'm Death, and you clearly haven't gotten smarter, so go back again."

"...Eh?"

"See? It happens again. You know, most people have the courtesy to die only once. But _no_, you halfas have to come back again and again, like flies."

"...Haah?"

The cloaked figure proceeded to whack his head on the pole of his scythe. "You know, it wouldn't have been so bad, if you'd actually _changed_ after all this while. I mean, there might actually have been a chance for intelligent conversation."

"I'm smart enough!" Danny finally pulled enough wits together to object.

"Then do tell, Mr Smart-enough, do you fear death?"

"Obviousl-"

"See! Nothing's different about you, Phantom! I know, because the next thing you'll ask is why I'm calling you 'Phantom'."

"_Please_ stop pre-empting me."

Death completely ignored him. "The only change is your new logo, and even then it doesn't improve the package much."

"Wha- oh, yeah! That girl, what's her name, Sam! She killed me!"

"Half-killed."

"Yeah, well, I'm clearly not living, so same difference. I am_ so_ never listening to anything else she tells me to do, ever again."

Death burst into laughter.

"What?"

"Good luck with that, lovebird."

"We're not lovebirds!" Green eyes widened, and he slapped a white-gloved hand over the offending mouth. "Don't know why I said that. I _don't_ know why I said that..."

Death turned to face him, pondering. "So your body _does_ remember." He mused. "Well, it won't matter so much once you're out of here, since Cuckoo told me it wasn't meant to be like this, but still. Interesting."

"...interesting, as in, not a I'm-going-to-dissect-your-mind-and-find-out-what's-wrong-with-you way, right?" The poor boy looked positively wary now.

"Ah well, at least I know where my entertainment's coming from for the next eternity or so. Ta-ta!"

"Hey, wait!" was all he got out before being booted forcefully out by a gleeful Death.


	4. The Third

I realise it doesn't look like it, but 1) I actually have impending important exams and 2) I wanted to concentrate on pure Sonic this year, due to his 20th. So much for that.

This is the TUE!Danny, in the non-Clockwork-meddled timeline.

Disclaimer: AHAHAHA- no.

* * *

For once, Death was quiet as the form of Danny Fenton faded in. They stared at each other for a moment, and Death could see the knowledge clicking into place in the blue eyes, before the boy broke the silence with a listless "Hi."

Awkward silence reigned. Danny broke it again. "So, I'm dead, then?"

"Yeah. No halfway point this time."

"Ah. Great." He sounded like he couldn't care less.

"...You know, being Death, I meet every single person who has died."

It took all of three seconds for this to sink in, then those blue eyes looked at him again with heartbreaking hope and despair. "How were they?"

"Look at it this way," Death deadpanned. "Meeting Jack Fenton is an experience I will never forget."

That put a faint smile on the halfa's face, a brittle thing that looked like it could break any moment. "Did he have his weapons on him?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

This time, the silence was not nearly so frigid. Danny spoke up. "...Where do we go, after this? Am I going to hell?"

"Somehow, the girl managed to predict that. She said, and I quote, 'Tell Danny, when he gets here- and it had better be a long time after this!- that he should get the misconception that he deserves to go to hell clear out of his head.'"

"But I-"

"And the boy adds, 'Tell Danny that we don't blame him for what happened. It was just a freak accident, and entirely not his fault.' Of course, that was after he placed bets with everyone else that Sam would be correct. I owe him the best computer in your time, now, thanks to your stupidity." It was amazing how even hooded with no visible face, he could look like he was pouting.

"I doubt my family is as forgiving, though." Danny gave a bitter laugh. "Jazz is probably freaking over how she never even got to Harvard, and my parents- they probably hate me even more now, both Fenton and Phantom."

"As a matter of fact, they all know about you." Death spoke over Danny's horrified choke. "Your sister has known for quite awhile, and helped your friends to explain it to your parents."

"That's even worse!" He wailed. "Now they all know that there's actually only _one_person to hate, not two separate beings!"

"Don't underestimate the strength of their love for you, Danny- they forgave you long before now. And they can't wait to see you again."

Death stretched out a hand, and with a slight hesitation, Danny took it.

"So, are you afraid of Death?"

"...Well," Danny spoke slowly, "It's just like going home, now, isn't it?"

Death seemed to give him a sad smile, hood turning down to face him. "That is certainly one way to look at it."

"So, where are we going? Heaven?"

"That would be giving away all my secrets, and that wouldn't do, would it?" Death paused for awhile, and turned to Danny again. "Another thing, I almost forgot."

"Yeah?"

"Your girlfriend also tells me to inform you that you have an entire afterlife of 'I told you so's to expect."

A true smile finally stretched across Danny's face. "Looking forward to it."


	5. The Fourth

Hope I made it clear enough, but in case it isn't, this is (spoilers) Phantom Planet, when he gets rid of his powers.

Disclaimer: Not Butch Hartman, last I checked.

* * *

"Danny!" Death cried. "Come in, come in, have a cup of coffee!"

Before he could so much as open his mouth to ask 'Come in where, your imaginary consultation room?'- the green swirls of the Ghost Zone being unchanged since he was last here- he was being pushed firmly into a squashy chair that looked like it had been stolen straight from the kids section of the Nasty Burger, and a steaming mug of coffee was being shoved at his face.

"…uh, thanks, I guess? But my friends are kind of waiting for me, so-"

"You have no idea how boring this job got." Death complained right over him as- he? She? It?- threw its cloaked form upon yet another chair that seemed to appear from nowhere. "Usually there's at least a few interesting ones that come by once in a while, but for the past year it's just been a lot of screaming and fainting. Oh, the fainting. They just drop like flies and leave me nothing to do until they wake up but stare at their bodies. Or maybe poke them. Occasionally." The hood turned to look at the untouched mug in Danny's hand. "Drink up! That's a really good brew, I'll have you know!"

Danny sipped at his drink. Death casually added, "I blame you, personally."

Danny nearly spit the coffee out into the hood's hole sputtering. "Wh- How can your boring job _possibly_ be my fault?!"

The manner with which the hood stared at him implied that he was slow beyond saving. "You used up the 'interesting' quota for humans." He could almost hear the unspoken 'duh'.

There really was nothing he could say to that, so he took another sip of coffee. He had more important things to ask Death anyway, like: 'If I'm seeing you now, after stepping into the Ghost Portal again, does this mean I got rid of my ghost powers? (Please say yes.)' Or: 'So it's your fault Phantom got blamed for the missing furniture, that time?'

What came out instead was: "Is this that cat shit coffee Tucker once tricked me into drinking?"

"Oi, you plebeian! There's nothing wrong with civet cat coffee."

"Uh, it's made of cat poo, that's pretty wrong right there."

"Wrong, it's made of the coffee beans that they eat. Besides, it tastes wonderful!"

"They still _poop it out_. That's just gross. And Sam just went on and on about 'caging the poor animals up for our own selfish human benefit' or something, never mind that she drank it too and liked it before Tuck told us what it was."

"Hmm, and how are things on that front, lovebird?"

"There _is_ no front! We are not lovebirds!"

"It's a river in E~gypt!" Death sounded almost delighted as he sang that out.

"Anyway, look, I really want to get back to my life already. A nice, normal life without Danny Phantom."

"That is a river in Egypt too."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You've been touched by Death, don't you see? You can't run from it, no matter how you try."

A skeletal hand points at his head, and Danny tugs a lock of hair in front of his eyes.

"…if that's the only way you've touched me, from now on, I'll be satisfied."

"Afraid of Death?"

"Afraid that if I continue, I'm just kidding myself. I'm not that important to Amity Park, halfa or not."

"Bet you that you are."

"M'not."

"You are, and I bet that if you aren't, next time I see you, I'll keep it a secret from your parents that you were Phantom from the rest of your afterlives. Of course, you are, so you'll just have to admit that you're in love with your girlfriend."

"There are many reasons why that will never happen."

"Egypt. Bet on?"

"Oh, _yes_."


End file.
